


when you wake up

by hopeboos



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Near Death Experiences, Sickfic, Spells & Enchantments, but only kind of, kind of sort of in a very dramatic magical way, was referred to as a beauty and the beast au, you will see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeboos/pseuds/hopeboos
Summary: It starts, as all things do, with Boo Seungkwan.“He told me that I don’t know how to be romantic,” Soonyoung grumbles. “As if he knows so much more than me. Does he think I was able to keep a boyfriend for four years without knowing how to be romantic?”“Are you two really romantic in private? I can’t imagine how Jeonghan would react if you brought him flowers!” Seokmin laughs, looking up from the stall. When he’s met with Soonyoung’s frown, he looks back down at the herbs quickly. “Not that you guys are unromantic in public, or anything,” he adds, hastily. “You’re a really cute couple!”orSoonyoung gives his boyfriend a magical rose, but the spell doesn't go quite the way he'd wanted.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Lee Seokmin | DK, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 114





	when you wake up

**Author's Note:**

> content warning: they're about to go through some shit

It starts, as all things do, with Boo Seungkwan.

“He told me that I don’t know how to be romantic,” Soonyoung grumbles. “As if he knows so much more than me. Does he think I was able to keep a boyfriend for four years without knowing how to be romantic?”

“Are you two really romantic in private? I can’t imagine how Jeonghan would react if you brought him flowers!” Seokmin laughs, looking up from the stall. When he’s met with Soonyoung’s frown, he looks back down at the herbs quickly. “Not that you guys are unromantic in public, or anything,” he adds, hastily. “You’re a really cute couple!”

“He would like it if I brought him flowers!” he insists. “He’s romantic, like me! We’re just not as obvious about it as you two are!”

“Sure, of course,” Seokmin agrees, picking up a pouch of rosemary. “I’ll just take one of these, please,” he tells the vendor.

He huffs. He can tell Seokmin is only agreeing to pacify him. He probably secretly agrees with Seungkwan, because they’re the most sickening couple he’s ever encountered. Kisses at any given opportunity, date nights every day of the week, couple gifts on any tiny anniversary. He and Jeonghan are a lot more casual than that, and it’s easy, and he likes it, but sometimes he looks at Seungkwan and Seokmin and thinks that he’d like to try that too, all their silly romanticism and unhindered affection.

“Do you need anything?” Seokmin asks as they wander further into the market.

“Isn’t there usually a florist around here?” He peers between the stalls and villagers in the square to get a glimpse at the wares.

“You don’t need to prove anything by getting him flowers, you know. You’re not even celebrating anything.”

“True romantics don’t need a reason to give each other gifts,” he declares. “We’re celebrating our deep and undying love for each other.”

“Okay,” Seokmin laughs again, pointing in the opposite direction. “The florist is back there, then.”

“Right,” he says, as if he had known that already.

They turn around and make their way through the market, headed back to the florists’ stall. Her stall is always beautiful, bursting with fresh flowers and dried ones, pouches of petals for potions and sacks of seeds for spells. It’s not usually busy, but she’s still happily in business, mostly for her bravery to go deep into the forest and pick the rare flowers essential for advanced potions and protective charms.

“Hello, Seokmin!” she says cheerily.

“Hey, Jeonghwa!” he responds, just as happily. “How’s Hyerin? Still attempting to tame that wolf?”

“Yes! She’s getting somewhere with it, actually, mostly through comforting charms and firm words. It keeps coming to us looking for breakfast, now.”

“Oh, wow!” he gasps. “She’s so brave! I couldn’t do that even with a thousand comforting charms.”

“She sure is something,” Jeonghwa agrees.

“Ahem,” Soonyoung says, straightening up. “Do you sell roses?”

“You’re in luck. I’ve got one left.”

“Perfect,” he grins, digging into his pockets for some coins.

“Is one enough for a man like Jeonghan?” Seokmin teases as they make the exchange.

“The rose isn’t just going to be a rose,” he scoffs. “What do you take me for? An amateur?”

“It’s not? When is a rose not a rose?”

“When it’s a gift from me,” he says, holding the flower delicately under the head to avoid being pricked by its thorns.

He gets to work as soon as he’s home. Jeonghan will be out for the rest of the day—he’s helping the farmers protect their orchards with pixie-repellent wards, and had warned him this morning that he might not be home until late. It works out well, as he needs all the time he can get to make the spell perfect.

He leaves through the old spell book until he finds what he was looking for. It’s a spell useful to herbalists or apothecaries, intended to enable plants to live longer once they’re cut. By binding their lifespan to something else, like a tree, or a young pet, or even the herbalist’s own life, cut plants can live a long life in order to be used fresh for a long time.

It’s not too hard, and he has everything he needs to hand. Dough made from sugar and flour and milk and fairy dust, to let the rose sit in overnight; an enchantment said under the dark of night; essence of the life it’s being bound too. At first, he was going to bind the rose to himself, have it be a _I will love you for as long as I live_ sort of thing, but it makes more sense if it’s attached to Jeonghan, because it’s his gift, and it should live as long as he does. He doesn’t think he’ll stop loving Jeonghan after either of them dies, but at least the rose would prove that to Jeonghan years in the future, should he be the first to go.

So he picks a hair from one of Jeonghan’s shirts in the oak wardrobe and kneads it into the dough, then places the bowl by their backdoor, under the direct light of the moon. The spell should be complete by morning.

He looks up at the moon and smiles. He’s the best boyfriend ever. Seungkwan can suck it.

-

Though he goes to bed alone, he wakes up with a warm weight slung across half of his body. It’s Jeonghan, soft and steady as ever, fast asleep on him, hot breath rhythmically ghosting across the skin of his neck. He smiles, and stays still, letting Jeonghan sleep on him for a while longer.

Sunlight begins to spill through the crack between the curtains, and he’s too far away to draw them closed, but too stuck under Jeonghan’s weight to move and shut them. So instead he watches the light dawn on Jeonghan’s face, causing his eyelids to flutter open, waking to the greeting of daylight.

“Good morning,” Soonyoung murmurs.

“It’s morning already?” he says, voice rough with the early hour.

“Unfortunately,” he sing-songs in return, smiling down at his head lolling on Soonyoung’s chest. “Did the warding go okay?”

“Mostly. The orchard on the Choi farm was the most difficult, because it’s a weird shape, so I couldn’t bury stabiliser capsules in the corners without affecting a big area of land that isn’t theirs. I had to cast spells on the individual pixie hovels instead.”

“That’s a big chore. You charge them extra?”

“It kept me there until midnight. They were practically begging to give me extra for it.”

“Knew I liked the Choi’s for a reason.” He brings one hand up to stroke through Jeonghan’s soft hair.

“Sure, they’re a good family. They gave me a basket of fruit to bring home, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s mostly apples, so consider it all yours.”

“Oh, yeah!” he says, sitting up quickly. Jeonghan groans as he slides from his body and onto the bed, snuggling further into the warm patch of blankets he leaves behind him. “I have something for you too! I shouldn’t leave it in the sunrise for too long.”

“A gift?” Jeonghan asks, stifled from under the blanket.

“Yeah!” He walks through their cottage to swing open the back door. The flower is, thankfully, still there when he steps out, and he carefully prises it from the soft dough, intact and alive as it was yesterday. The spell has worked.

“What is it?” Jeonghan’s voice calls from further in the house. He stands, taking the rose with him.

“Are you ready?”

“I’m cautious. Why are you acting weird?”

He pauses by the doorway, holding the rose out of sight and grinning at Jeonghan, who’s still lying in their bed, blankets up to his chin. “I’m being romantic, Hyung. Close your eyes.”

“Romantic? Since when did you do romance?”

Soonyoung pouts at him. “All the time! Close your eyes!”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes for a moment, then complies, shutting them and rolling over onto his back. “Okay.”

He walks into the room with the rose cupped in both hands and sits beside him on the bed. “Surprise!”

Jeonghan opens his eyes, blinks at the flower, and then at Soonyoung’s face. “A rose?”

“It’s not just any rose,” he explains eagerly. Jeonghan sits up. “I cast a lifeline spell on it. It’ll live as long as you do, and never wilt. The next time you get called out to do work in the next village, you can take it with you, and I thought it would… you know. Remind you of me.”

Jeonghan reaches out carefully to take the flower from him, thumbing the silky petals. “As if I need reminding,” he says softly, and Soonyoung almost melts, before Jeonghan continues speaking. “Did Seokmin put you up to this?”

“No!” he says, a little indignant. “I wanted to do this for you. Cause I love you.”

“Really?”

He nods, pouting a little. “Of course.”

He brings the flower to his nose, inhaling it’s perfume. “That’s surprisingly tender, coming from you.”

“You could just say thanks, you know.”

Jeonghan smiles at him, all happy eyes and dazzling beauty, even first thing in the morning. He can tell from that look that he’s touched by the gesture—taken aback, yes, but pleased, nonetheless.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“I know,” he says, leaning forwards in a bid for the kiss he’s earned.

Jeonghan complies, granting him a kiss on the lips, pulling him back down onto the bed as he does.

-

They display the rose in a vase on the table, red and proud, and go about their day as usual. He swells up with pride whenever it catches his eye, a smile on face as he brews his usual potions, pleasure sitting in his chest knowing he’s made Jeonghan happy with it. Maybe Seokmin and Seungkwan are onto something with this romanticism thing. It’s satisfying.

Jeonghan is supposed to be out for another long day today, reinforcing the orchards to the south of the village, but he’s back by dinnertime, blinking heavily and looking worn out.

“Hyung?” he asks, looking up as he walks in. “You’re done early?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, dumping his satchel by the door and gently closing it behind him. “Got a bit dizzy in one of the fields and had to sit down, so Jihye insisted I come home early.”

“Oh?”

“I’m okay. Probably just stood out in the heat for too long. Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I was about to put some stew on. Do you want some?”

He stirs the stew in the pot distractedly, his mood gone south all too quickly. Something about this feels off.

Jeonghan eats quietly, which is unusual for him. It doesn’t help the foreboding feeling in his gut.

“I think I’m going to get an early night,” Jeonghan says, pushing his bowl away, only half his portion eaten.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I think I’m going to brew you an energizer for the morning.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Jeonghan assures him. “You should come and join me in bed instead.”

“I will, once I’ve done it. I promise.”

“Don’t take too long then, okay?” Jeonghan stands up and sways a little bit trying to catch his balance.

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

As soon as he’s shut the bedroom door behind him, Soonyoung starts to clear the kitchen table. Their bowls are replaced by his ingredients, everything he needs to work on an energizer potion, and he turns all his attention to making it perfectly. Egg yolk with ground barley, mixed with imp eggs and daffodil petals. Stirred under the light of a candle, imbued with a whisper of a spell. He leaves it by the windowsill, to brew under natural light. He stands by it for a few minutes, watching. Wondering if it will be enough.

He starts to clear the table off, putting away his ingredients and fully intending to join Jeonghan in bed, but something catches his eye. A single rose petal lies amongst his vials and pots. It’s directly underneath the vase holding the rose—the rose that’s supposed to live a life as long as Jeonghan’s. The rose that isn’t supposed to wilt and die.

He stares at the flower. Then, slowly, cautiously, pulls it out of the vase, only to see the small leaves on its stem are limp and weak. Another petal falls from the flower as he holds it in his hand, and his mind immediately goes into overdrive. The spell didn’t work; the spell didn’t work, but there is still magic imbued in the flower. He can feel it.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Think through this step by step. Firstly, the flower needs protecting until he can figure out what he’s done. He places the flower back on the table oh-so-carefully and roots through their storage cupboard until he finds the fairy cage, and casts a few quick spells on it. Protective, slowing, suspension. Places the flower in the cage, and it hovers there, held safe.

He carefully opens the door to their bedroom. Jeonghan is lying in their bed, dead asleep. He has to stand there for a few minutes, watch his chest moving up and down, see that he’s safe and breathing. Takes a moment to lean against the doorway and shut his eyes. He really hopes he hasn’t done what he thinks he’s done.

He shuts the bedroom door gently and goes to the front door, swinging his cloak over his shoulders. He casts a generic protective spell on the house behind him as he leaves, spell book in one hand and the flower cage in the other, and proceeds to run the whole way to Seokmin and Seungkwan’s house.

Seokmin answers the door with a smile, as always. “Oh, Hyung! What are you doing here?”

Soonyoung holds up the cage. “Can I come in?”

“Sure!” he says brightly, holding the door open for him. “Do you need help casting your spell?”

“Why would a romance expert need help with his craft?” Seungkwan drawls from where he’s sat in the kitchen.

Soonyoung steps through the threshold and puts the cage on the table, the thick spell book landing next to it with a bang.

Seungkwan looks up to meet his expression, and what he sees there changes his tone immediately. “What is it?”

“I think I’ve fucked up.”

“With what?” Seokmin appears at his side, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I put the spell on the flower,” he says, staring at it numbly. “But I don’t think it worked.”

“What spell?” Seungkwan asks.

“A life-extending bond. With Jeonghan.”

“You put a life-extender on it?” Seungkwan says, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Where did you get a spell like that?” Seokmin asks.

He glances between them. “In… my book?” He opens his book to the right page, and Seungkwan stands from his seat to take a look at it.

“How old is this thing? You know that spell isn’t put in spell books anymore, right?”

“It’s not?” he asks, voice small.

“No, it’s too unstable. It’s hard to find an element that will push the magic in the right direction.”

He can feel Seokmin’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but he feels very far away from his own body at that moment. “When you say the right direction…”

“Hyung,” Seokmin whispers. “The flower isn’t bonded to Jeonghan, is it?”

He tears his eyes away from Seungkwan’s face to meet Seokmin’s wide eyes. “I think… I think Jeonghan is bonded to the flower.”

The silence hangs between them, heavy and suffocating. “What’s the life expectancy of a cut rose?” Seokmin asks.

“About a week,” Seungkwan answers, looking down at the flower.

He sits down heavily in one of their kitchen chairs, Seokmin’s hand on his shoulder steadying him. “You have to help me reverse it. As fast as we can.”

“Of course,” Seokmin says. He comes to kneel in front of him, hands on his cheeks. “Hey, we’ll figure this out. There must be a reversal spell somewhere.”

He nods, and tries not to let his voice tremble. “Yeah. There must be.”

“He’s going to be okay as long as you pull yourself together,” Seungkwan says, from the other side of him. “We need to get down to work, right now.”

“Right,” he says, nodding and pulling the heavy spell book from the table and into his lap. “Yeah.”

“I’ll get everything we have on spell reversals,” Seokmin offers, standing to go to their bookshelves.

“I hope Jeonghwa doesn’t mind late night calls,” Seungkwan says, headed to the door and unhooking his cloak. “I’ll go and ask her about plant magic.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Seokmin replies, waving his hands to levitate all the books from the shelf at once.

“I’m full of them,” Seungkwan responds, one hand on the doorknob. “You’ll be okay with him?”

It registers that they’re talking about him, the way he’s staring blankly at the book. It’s hard to snap out of it.

“I’ve got this,” Seokmin reassures him, patting one of Soonyoung’s cheeks quickly, helping him out of his daze. He looks at the pile of books on the table, and then to Seungkwan, opening the front door.

“Thanks, you guys,” he says. “Seriously.”

“Thank us when we’ve solved it,” Seungkwan advises, stepping outside. “For now, put your head down, and work out how we undo this.”

It’s a long night, holed up in Seokmin and Seungkwan’s house, words blurring on pages and books piling up on the table. Seungkwan comes back with some notes about plant magic and more firewood for the hearth, but not much else of use. Seokmin falls asleep in his book right before the sun rises, and Seungkwan shakes him awake gently.

“Hey. You should go to bed.”

“No… Jeonghan…” Seokmin murmurs, blinking at the book in front of him.

“You’re not going to take in any information like this. Go to bed, I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Same for you, Hyung.”

Soonyoung takes a moment to look up at him. His neck is stiff from having it bent over the table all night. “I can’t stop.”

“You’ve been staring at the same page for the past half an hour. You’ll function better on a few hours of sleep. You need to go and check on Jeonghan, anyway.”

He relents at that, because he does want to go and see Jeonghan. He has the rose right here, his indicator that Jeonghan is perfectly alive, even if a few more petals had fallen off overnight. Still, he wants to see him for himself. He’ll be waking up soon.

“Come over later, yeah? I’ll be back to work as soon as I’ve had a few hours of sleep.”

“We’ll be there. Get some rest.”

He can’t manage more than a salute as he stands from the chair, gathering up his book and the rose.

The roads are clear this early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the hills behind the village. He walks through the empty streets and spots smoke coming from one of the farmhouses in the distance, the only sign of life other than the night-watchers. It mars the view of the sunrise.

He shuts the door behind him quietly and puts the book and cage on the table. Takes off his shoes and his cloak, and quietly opens the bedroom door. Jeonghan is still in bed, arms stretched out over the empty space where Soonyoung should be. The sunlight creeping in between the not-quite shut curtains casts a strip of light across his face.

He pulls the curtains shut, blocking the light from view, and hears a shift from the bed. Jeonghan is stirring a little, eyes opening a crack before he sighs and rolls over, making space for Soonyoung in the bed.

“You didn’t come to bed last night,” he murmurs, words indistinct with drowsiness.

“No,” he says, climbing under their blanket and coming up close to Jeonghan, close enough to feel his body heat. He rests one hand over his beating heart. “Sorry.”

“What were you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, hoping Jeonghan is tired enough not to push it. “Go back to sleep. I’ll stay, now.”

Jeonghan murmurs low in his throat. “Told Mrs. Choi I’d come early this morning. Should probably get up.”

“You should stay here,” he says. “I’ll send a carrier pigeon to her. You should stay with me.”

Jeonghan turns his head to face him, but Soonyoung feels it more than sees it, with his own face buried in Jeonghan’s neck. “What were you doing last night? Why are you acting weird?”

He wraps his arms around Jeonghan and holds him, fingers clutching into skin, desperate not to let him leave, but also frozen in fear at the prospect of explaining the mess he’s made.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asks instead.

“Soonyoung,” Jeonghan warns. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He’s shaking a little. He’s too obviously scared—he can tell by the way Jeonghan has tensed up. “You know that flower I gave you yesterday?”

“Yeah?”

“You know the spell I put on it?”

“Yeah.”

“Seungkwan says it’s not a stable spell. We think the intention has reversed itself.”

There’s a long moment when he’s not sure what Jeonghan will do. Start to panic, maybe, or get angry with his recklessness. Maybe he’ll get up and leave.

“Ah,” he says, instead. “That explains why I feel like I’ve been run over by one of Hansol’s horses.”

He’s always been perceptive, and it’s not surprising that he catches on quickly. Perhaps he’d suspected this before now. Perhaps he’s suspected as much since last night, and has been waiting for Soonyoung to figure it out.

“We have about four days to find a reversal spell that’ll work. I promise I’ll continue looking as soon as I’ve had sleep. I can’t read words anymore.” He suddenly shoots up in bed. “Wait! The energizer! I’ll take that!”

Jeonghan moves fast, grabbing Soonyoung around his middle and pulling him back down onto the bed. “No. It’s not a substitute for sleep, and you know it. Get some rest.”

He tries to pull away from him. “This isn’t me getting into bad sleeping habits again, Jeonghan, this is your life! Let me up!”

“And I’ll still be alive when you wake up, alright? We have four days ahead of us. I’ll take the energizer and continue looking while you sleep.”

He sags back down. He did make the energizer for Jeonghan, who looks like he needs it, despite having near ten hours of sleep. “I don’t want to stop,” he says, though he knows he’s already lost this fight. He can barely keep his eyes open.

“It won’t be for long,” Jeonghan promises, clutching at his hand. “I’ll be here. For now, go to sleep.”

-

He wakes again when the sun is high in the sky, and Jeonghan is sat up in bed beside him. For a moment, he forgets about the rose, and the spell, and Jeonghan’s four days to live—he wakes up and sees his boyfriend reading peacefully, and he can almost pretend that everything is fine.

“Find anything?” he murmurs, and Jeonghan looks over at him.

“Not yet.”

He blinks sleep out of his eyes and sits up. “Seungkwan and Seokmin better have found something.”

“They were here earlier. They said that they’re going to travel to the next village to consult with Minghao.”

He flops back onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. “So they didn’t find anything.”

“If anyone is going to have an obscure spell needed to fix something like this, it’s Minghao. Don’t worry so much.”

“Why are you the one telling me not to worry?”

“Because you’re the worst at worrying over things. I’m fine. Shall we go and make some lunch?”

They make themselves sandwiches, because he isn’t willing to spend time standing over their stove when he could be using it to search for a fix, and Jeonghan can barely stay on his feet long enough to make it to their kitchen table, never mind put a meal together. Soonyoung can tell he’s trying to hide his exhaustion, but his body betrays him with the way it folds into the chair, the way he’s putting his whole weight against the backrest.

The afternoon passes in the slow movement of hazy sunlight, and the musty smell of old books, and Jeonghan trying not to fall asleep at the table. The rose sits by him, and his eyes flicker over to it every time another petal falls. The flower is starting to go brown at the bottom of the stem, the edges of the remaining petals beginning to curl up.

He skims through spell after spell, looking for something to undo flower magic, or life magic, or ideally, both. Combining a spell is too risky, and using two for the same job is possible, but likely won’t be completely effective. Seungkwan was right, it seems—this spell hasn’t been in use for at least a hundred years. His spell book is horribly outdated, and has a depressing lack of useful reversal spells.

“This might be something,” Jeonghan says at some point late into that evening. “Reversal for an organic life form; invert the state of its lifespan completely.”

“Oh?” he says, sitting up. Something in his back clicks as he does. “You’re right, that might do it!”

“Try it on another flower first, so we can see what it looks like.”

“Obviously,” he says, already headed to their back door. “Does it say anything about the type of flower?”

“No, any will be fine.”

He runs out into the cool evening. Their house isn’t far from the edge of the woods, and he’s there in under a minute, standing under the shade of the trees and looking around for flowers. He picks a daisy, and then another two or three, and bolts back to the house, daisies delicately clasped in his hands.

“What do I need?” he says, putting the daisies on the table and fetching his standard rack of spell ingredients. Troll hair, sunflower seeds, a pot of ground ginger, assortments of other jars and pots, and hopefully, enough to fix this.

“It’s nothing rare, I bet we have most of it here. Do you have honeysuckle pollen?”

“Yeah, I have a little left,” he says, running his finger down the list of ingredients. “You’re right, we do have everything! It needs to be brewed in complete dark, though. Do you know where the blackout sheets are?”

“They’re in the supplies cupboard.”

Jeonghan stays sat in his seat as Soonyoung runs around their house, gathering what he needs, and it’s concerning. Though the new find has reanimated him a little, the fact that he doesn’t feel strong enough to even try and stand is scary. The fact that he’s putting his complete trust in Soonyoung to do this spell, the very person who cursed him in the first place, is even scarier.

He sets the ingredients out on the table to catalogue everything in front of him before he puts the blackout sheets up. He knows his way around his bottles, and darkness-brewed spells have never been a problem for him before, but he’s also never had such high stakes. He second guesses himself with every bottle he picks up, with every measurement he makes, even though he’s never been wrong with this sort of thing before.

“You okay?” Jeonghan asks into the pitch-black room, as if he can sense his hesitance through the pitch-black room.

“Perfect,” he says, taking a deep inhale. “I think the mixture is done. I’m going to drop a daisy into it, and then I’ll be able to take the sheets down so we can see it.”

“Good luck.”

He feels around tentatively until his fingertips meet one of the daisies. He feels for the edge of the bowl with his other hand, and drops it in, hearing the mixture hiss at the contact.

He goes over to the nearest window with urgency, reaches out to where he knows the blackout sheet is, and tears it back. It doesn’t give in much light; it’s become dark outside while he worked, and moonlight streams in, spilling over the table and chairs.

Jeonghan still doesn’t stand, but stays in his seat, waiting for Soonyoung to cross the room again and look into the bowl for himself. He knows he can’t help it, and that he would be on his feet in a second if he could, but it still makes him feel bitter, knowing he has to relay the results to him.

“Well?” he asks, but it’s not hopeful. The look on his face must say it all.

He goes over to their waste tub and tips the whole thing out. “No good,” he says.

“What happened to it?”

He sits back down in his seat and puts his face in his hands. “It was dead.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond for a minute. “Badly worded spell, then,” he says, eventually. “Should say _invert the life_ , not the life _line_.”

He doesn’t move. He can feel the tears trickling between his fingers, and hopes Jeonghan can’t see them in the dim light of the room. He has no right to feel like this. He has no right to make Jeonghan comfort him when _he is dying_ and it’s _Soonyoung’s fault_.

“Soonie,” Jeonghan murmurs, because he sees all, and knows all, and because Soonyoung is weak to him. “Come here.”

He scrapes his chair back, the sound loud in the quiet room, and goes over to him. He doesn’t sit by him, because he doesn’t deserve to; he kneels instead, resting his forehead against Jeonghan’s knee. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve done this.”

How he wishes he’d gone through with his original plan and attached the flower to himself instead. At least then, he could forgive himself. At least then, Jeonghan would live.

“Hey,” Jeonghan says, cupping his face in his hands. He can’t bear to look up at him, to meet his eyes properly. “It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is.”

He shakes his head firmly. “Not your fault you had a bad spell. It happens to the best of us.”

“I should’ve been more thorough when playing with life magic. It was always dangerous. I should’ve asked for help from Seungkwan; he always knows about these things. But I was being proud, and stupid… life magic is the most delicate type of magic, and you’re the most important life I could’ve picked.”

Jeonghan parses through Soonyoung’s hair with his hands, fingertips running against his scalp comfortingly. “You’re the last person who would willingly hurt me. You don’t need to apologise.”

He knocks his head against the inside of Jeonghan’s thigh. He can’t give up hope. He still has time.

“We need to rest,” Jeonghan says, thumb carefully wiping at Soonyoung’s damp eyelashes. “Can you help me into the bedroom? I’m not sure if I can stand.”

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hands and gets up off his knees quickly, giving Jeonghan space to stand, but staying close enough to be within reach. “Does something hurt? Or do you feel weak? I wonder if a pain-relief potion would work against the effects of the flower?”

“It’s just—lack of energy, I suppose,” he says, gripping the arms of the chair with shaking hands. “I’m worn.”

“You ready?” he asks, putting his hands on his sides, ready to brace him.

“Yeah, okay, let’s—” Jeonghan pushes against the chair, putting all his energy into standing, and trembling with the effort of it. Soonyoung grips at his waist, and Jeonghan holds tight onto Soonyoung’s shoulders, leaning all his weight into him.

“I got you,” he says, leaning down to wrap one arm around his waist, the other grasping the arm over his shoulders. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Jeonghan says, breathless, like the act of standing alone had taken it out of him. “Great.”

“Alright, let’s get to bed,” he says, walking him through to the bedroom. One foot in front of the other, and even through he’s bearing most of Jeonghan’s weight, his feet still give out when they’re four steps across the room, though he’s quick to brace himself on the bedroom doorway, avoiding taking both of them to the floor. He picks him up there, arms wrapped around his back and thighs, and carries him the rest of the way to the bed, laying him down gently against the pillows. His head lolls back when he does, energy completely spent.

“Thanks,” he whispers, eyes already fluttering shut. “Glad I’ve got you around.”

“Yeah,” he says, on the verge of tears again, but desperate not to cry until Jeonghan falls asleep properly. “You too, Hyung.”

“Stay,” Jeonghan murmurs, voice barely there. “Stay here.”

Soonyoung crawls into the bed beside him, pulling the sheets over them and wrapping his arms around him.

“Stay,” he says again, trying to force his eyes open to look at Soonyoung.

“I will,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.”

-

He’s awoken the next morning by a knock on the door. It’s only Chan, come to check on them both, as he hadn’t been at the midweek market yesterday to sell his potions, and Jeonghan hasn’t been seen in a few days either. He can’t really bare to tell him the truth—knows he’d have a lot of nosy people at his door if he did—so he tells him that they’re both sick, and sleeping it off for a few days. Chan accepts the explanation, wishes them both good health, and Soonyoung sends him on his way with the burn-relief potion he came for.

He could kick himself for sleeping this late when he should’ve gotten an early start to look through his books. He’s never been good at waking up in the morning, but since moving in with Jeonghan—one of the lightest sleepers he’s ever met—he’s always had him around to wake him up early. He’d been stupid enough to forget that Jeonghan is in no position to do that for him, now.

He comes back into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed, watching Jeonghan sleep despite the stream of sunlight on his face, despite the morning cold of their room, despite the fact that it’s late morning and Soonyoung has never known him to sleep this late in his life. He sleeps.

“Hyung,” he calls. “Wake up.”

Jeonghan doesn’t stir. “Hyung. Come on.” He runs a hand up his side, light touches that he usually squirms away from. “Jeonghan. Hey. Wake up.”

He changes to patting the side of his cheek, trying to bring him out of it, only to find his skin damp with sweat and cool to the touch. When there’s still no movement from him, and he stands, going back through to the kitchen with intent. The rose is still there in its cage, wilting and pitiful but nonetheless alive. He goes over to the drawers and pulls out his rack of herbs, picking out the jar of rhodiola rosea, then grabbing their pot of honey from the cupboard before making his way back to the bedroom.

He picks up Jeonghan’s arm from the bed and turns it over, so that the inside of his wrist is facing upwards. He takes a little honey on the tip of his finger and smears it on the inside of his wrist carefully. Then he picks up the rhodiola rosea and takes a pinch with clean fingertips, sprinkling it onto the spread of honey and massaging the mixture into his skin. Then he bows his head, placing one hand on his wrist and the other on his shoulder, and says the words for the spell of consciousness. He wills his magic to spread through Jeonghan’s whole body, to keep him invigorated for as long as possible.

Jeonghan jerks awake, pulling his arm away from Soonyoung in a panic and struggling to push his weight up.

“It’s okay, it’s me, it’s me,” he says, putting his hands in the air as Jeonghan looks around, disorientated.

He settles again, arm shaking under him where he’s trying to prop himself up, working to even his breath out. “What did you do?”

“Spell of consciousness,” he says, gesturing to the honey apologetically.

Jeonghan looks down at his wrist and grimaces. “Hate that spell.”

“I know,” he says, screwing the top of the rhodiola rosea jar back on. “But I couldn’t get you to wake up.”

Jeonghan drops his head back onto the pillow, sighing. The silence between them holds weight.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” he says. It’s clear Jeonghan won’t be making it to the kitchen today. “What do you want?”

He only shakes his head.

“I’ll make soup then,” he says, brushing a little of Jeonghan’s hair out of his eyes. Jeonghan doesn’t respond, but blinks slowly. “Don’t fall asleep again,” he says, pressing a kiss to his forehead before standing and going through to the kitchen.

He’s glancing back through to the bedroom every ten seconds as he stands over the soup, and looking over at the rose every twenty. He can count the number of petals left now. Twelve.

He brings the soup through to the bedroom and places it on the bedside table. “Can you sit up?”

“If you help me,” Jeonghan murmurs, working against his heavy eyelids. “Get me started.”

Helping him is a generous way to put it; Soonyoung all but manhandles him into sitting against the headboard. “How are you feeling today?” he asks, as if the answer wasn’t clear.

“Like Hansol’s run me over with ten of his horses,” he drawls, eyeing Soonyoung. “What soup is it?”

“The chicken and rice one you had in the cellar. You ready?”

He takes a few spoonfuls with success, and Soonyoung watches closely to make sure his hand stays steady.

“When was the last time you had someone feed you like this?”

“Probably when I was really young. My dad used to make the best sick-day stew.”

He nods, putting another spoon to Jeonghan’s mouth. “I’m sorry I can’t make anything good. I’m good at potions, but shit at proper food.”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “You’re more than enough.”

He looks down at the bowl in his hands. “I don’t know how you can keep saying things like that when you’re like this.”

Jeonghan looks at him unflinchingly. “Because I love you.”

He places the bowl on the side table and takes one of Jeonghan’s hands in his own. His palm is slippery with cold sweat, and he leans down to kiss the back of it. “I love you too.”

“Promise me something,” he says, turning his hand over to clasp their fingers together.

“Anything.”

“Promise me that you’ll forgive yourself.”

He squeezes his hand, tight. “You always ask for a lot.”

Jeonghan’s mouth quirks to the side in the imitation of a smile. “And you always deliver.”

He pulls his hand away. “Nearly always.” He stands from the bed.

“Soonyoung—”

“I’m just going to get the book,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

“You didn’t promise me,” Jeonghan accuses as he leaves the room.

He picks up his book from the kitchen table, along with the one Jeonghan had been looking through. Glares down the rose, too- its presence is heavy and haunting, but necessary now that the deadline is approaching fast. He goes to pick it up, but is distracted by the sound of horse hooves approaching their house at a brisk trot.

He drops the books on the table again and goes over to the door, prepared to tell whoever it is that neither of them can do business today. But then he catches sight of the horses, and they’re familiar—and then comes the sight of his best friends dismounting the saddles.

His heart soars with hope. This was their best bet all along, Minghao with his endless knowledge, and if they’ve come straight back here, that must mean they come with good news. It has to. They’ve come back with an answer.

“Is that…?” Jeonghan is asking from the bedroom, but he’s already flung the front door open to receive their friends, looking at the approaching Seokmin with every hope high in his throat.

“Seokmin,” he says, choked up. “Please say you found something.”

“We found something,” he says, embracing Soonyoung in a hug. “It’s not perfect, but it’s something.”

His legs might give way from under him, so he clutches at Seokmin, hard. “Thank you, oh, Gods, thank you so much—I’m indebted to you forever and ever, whatever you need, consider me yours—”

“Don’t say that so fast,” Seungkwan says, coming up behind Seokmin, and Soonyoung transfers over to hugging him too. “We should talk first. How is he?”

“Come in and see,” he says, ushering them inside.

“Come in and don’t see too hard,” Jeonghan calls through. “I’m a sight for sore eyes.”

“You? A sight for sore eyes?” Seungkwan says, coming into the room. “Impossible, I think.”

“Are you resorting to flattery because I’m on my deathbed?” he asks, jutting his chin up in challenge.

“No, he’s right,” Seokmin says sincerely, coming to sit on the edge of the bed so he can give Jeonghan a hug. “You’re all right, Hyung.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “I certainly will be if your resolution is a good one.”

“We don’t have much time,” Soonyoung says, sitting down on the free side of the bed. Seungkwan leans against their dresser, playing with the cuffs of his sleeves. “What do we need to do?”

Seokmin and Seungkwan look at each other before Seungkwan begins to speak. “We explained the situation to Minghao, and the first thing he told us was that there’s no direct undoing spell for the magic you cast. It doesn’t exist, and that’s the reason the spell is being phased out—if it did, the spell would still be legitimate, because you could keep redoing it until the magic goes the right way. But it’s not, so there’s no cure.”

“But?”

“But,” Seungkwan says, emphasising the word heavily. “He did give us something else. It’s his cure-all, he says, even though not many people agree to do it. Not many people get themselves in situations where they need to.”

“What is it?” Jeonghan asks.

“He said that it’s possible for someone to expel their magic completely, if they’re willing. Doing so would release their magic from their body, but would also release it from any binding spell or enchantment they’ve cast that’s ongoing in effect. Past spells can’t be undone, but everything else goes.”

“It’s a cure all, because it would undo the spell,” Seokmin says. “But it would undo everything else, too—any spell you’ve ever cast on yourself, or anyone else, any wards on your house. Your bonding vows. Everything would be gone.”

“I’ll do it,” he says, without hesitation, even though his stomach swoops at the thought of it. His magic is all he’s ever known—he could whisper spells before he could walk, has honed his potion craft from a young age. This spell sounds horrible and debilitating, but that doesn’t stop him for even a second. The loss of his magic is nothing compared to the loss of Jeonghan’s life.

“No, you won’t,” Jeonghan says, just as fast, and Soonyoung whips his head around to look at him.

“What?”

“He’s right, Hyung,” Seokmin says apologetically. “You’ve got to consider this properly. It’s a spell only performed by people trained in healer magic, because it’s so delicate—it’s like the magical equivalent of surgery. No, actually, it’s more like amputation, because that’s how dangerous and painful it is—it’s not going to grow back in time, you’re not going to be able to do potions or wards or any type of spell. You have to think about this.”

“I have thought about it,” he says, stubborn. “I’ve been thinking about it since I realised what I’d done to that flower. If this will fix things, then it’s no price.”

“Are you listening?” Jeonghan asks. “It could kill you! That’s what you’re trying to say, right?” he turns on Seokmin, almost angry.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s killed people before.”

“Killed who?” he challenges. “Young children? The elderly? Frail bodies can’t handle powerful spells, but you know me, I’ll be fine—”

“You’re not taking this seriously,” Jeonghan hisses. “Your magic will be gone. Do you understand that? You will be completely helpless—you will have no business anymore, you will have no self-protection, you will be missing a chunk of yourself the rest of your life—”

“But I’ll still have you,” he says, holding his eye contact. “So it’s worth it.”

Jeonghan’s breathing is short as he looks back at Soonyoung. “I won’t let you.”

He feels like he could scream. “We don’t have another choice!”

“We have time,” he says. “I have time. We can keep looking for another option.”

“He said there’s no reversal. Nothing that would work as effectively as this. There’s no point holding your life on the line any longer.”

“I am not trading my life for yours.” Jeonghan, for all that he can barely hold himself up, looks at him with fire in his eyes. “It’s not happening. Keep looking.”

He wants to yell, to throw a tantrum and take Seokmin outside and make him do the spell anyway, Jeonghan be damned. But then Jeonghan’s eyes slip closed, and his face screws up, and his fists clench like he’s in pain.

“What is it?” he asks. “Does something hurt?”

Jeonghan blinks his eyes open, and they’re glassy, distressed. “Please keep looking. I don’t want you to do this.”

Soonyoung places his hands on him, one on his side and one around his back, and helps him lie down on the bed again. He places a hand to his forehead, and his temple is burning hot, but when he takes Jeonghan’s hand, it’s ice cold.

“I’ll look,” he says. “I will. As long as you rest.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, curling up on his side.

“I can do a few healing spells if you like,” Seokmin says quietly, resting his hands on Jeonghan. “It might help for a bit.”

“Yes, please.” He tears himself away from Jeonghan’s side to give them some space. “Will you come…?” he says to Seungkwan, who’s already on his way over.

“Of course,” he says, helping Soonyoung stand. He’s grateful for it—he feels shaky on his feet. “Let’s get to work.”

He only half-shuts the bedroom door. It’s a little reassuring to hear Seokmin’s healing spells through the gap in the doorway. He sits down at the kitchen table and opens his book, head swimming.

There are eleven petals left on the rose.

Seokmin comes through after a little while. “He’s fallen asleep again,” he says, quiet, though Jeonghan doesn’t need it. He’ll probably be impossible to wake up, now.

“His body is shutting down,” Soonyoung murmurs, not taking his eyes from the page in front of him. “He only woke up in the first place because I used magic.”

“Are you really willing to do this?” Seungkwan asks.

“Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

“It is dangerous,” Seokmin says softly, sitting opposite him. “And painful. And when it’s over, you’ll have less magic than Junhui’s new-born baby. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone without the slightest bit of magic—it’s going to change your life.”

“S’fine,” he mutters. “At least then I won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

“Oh, Hyung,” Seungkwan says, like he’s pained. “You’ve done so much good. The village would have a big loss without your magic—think about the amount of people who buy your pain-relievers, your sleeping draughts, your lucky spells. You’ve saved lives with them. There’s no bad magic in you.”

“And giving it up now would save another life. So I have to do it. We can continue to look until it gets dark, but then we’re doing the spell.”

“I think Jeonghan might never speak to me again if I help you go through with it,” Seokmin says weakly.

“But you’re still willing?”

“Of course. If it’s our only choice to save his life, then we have to.”

“Thank you,” he says. “And thank you for going to Minghao. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

“I don’t know what you’d do without us either,” Seungkwan agrees. “I don’t know if the village would still be in one piece.”

He lets himself smile, just a little bit, just for half a second. “What do you need for the spell?”

“No ingredients. It’s spiritual magic, so I only need your consent, and a clear space, and some mental preparation.”

“You have my consent, and my back garden, and the spare bedroom if you need to go and meditate, or something.”

Seokmin lets out a long breath. “Yeah. I think I’m going to do that. This spell is scary big.”

“Good luck,” Seungkwan calls. “Don’t fall asleep like last time.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Seokmin says, standing. “Ha. Literally.”

Soonyoung stares at his book without really seeing it. He’ll look a little longer, because he promised Jeonghan he would, but he knows now that he won’t find anything. Minghao confirmed as much. This is inevitable—he’s about to lose his magic for good.

And, yeah, that’s scary. He’d rather lose a hand—hell, a whole arm. But nothing of Jeonghan’s. The decision is easy when it comes to him.

When twilight comes and Soonyoung has finally read his huge spell book from back to front, he glances over at the rose for the thousandth time. There are seven petals left.

Seungkwan has abandoned his reading to cook something over the stove. “You’ll need your strength,” he explains. “You and Seokmin both.”

Eating the broth feels a little like he’s being fattened up for sacrifice. Jeonghan, if he would wake up, would probably still be fighting him on this—but that’s the problem. It’s probably why Seungkwan and Seokmin are so prepared to help him. Jeonghan won’t wake, not at all, not even a little bit. Soonyoung can stroke his hair and talk to him and cuddle up beside him all he wants, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a noise. Only stays very still.

Another petal falls. They haven’t got much time.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into Jeonghan’s skin. “I know you don’t want me to, but there’s no other way.”

He runs a hand down his back, only to feel the way his shirt is sticking to his skin with cold sweat.

“It’s okay, really. I deserve it for practising reckless magic on you in the first place. Punishment fit for the crime. It’ll bring you back, and anything is worth that, so. Please don’t be too mad at me.”

Jeonghan doesn’t answer. He lies there for a minute, just watching him.

“I’ll see you when it’s all done, I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

He plants a kiss to his hair and sits up. He doesn’t want to leave him here, but he can’t do the spell so close to him, either.

“Are you ready?” Seokmin asks once he emerges from the bedroom.

“Yeah,” he says, breathing out. “You?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he says, standing. “Let’s go outside.”

“Good luck,” Seungkwan says, following them to the back door. “I’ll be watching.”

They step out into the night, cool and bright with the light of the full moon. Seokmin leads them both into the middle of the clearing, a short way away from the house, close enough that he can still see Seungkwan at the window. The crickets chirp, and the sky stretches on.

“Why do you need the clear space?” he asks, nervously.

“Your magic is just gonna…” he makes an exploding motion with his hands. “It’s kind of a forceful process.”

“Great.” His voice wobbles. “Can’t wait.”

“I’m really sorry about all this, you know,” he says, settling his hands on Soonyoung’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault, and you don’t deserve any of it. It was just really bad luck.”

He nods, but he’s distracted, mind on the bare state of the rose. As scared as he is, he doesn’t want to wait any longer. “It’s okay. Please do it.”

Seokmin exhales, steady. “I need to you to shut your eyes and clear your mind. Relax your body. Untense everywhere—match my breathing if you can.”

He rolls his shoulders under Seokmin’s hands and takes some deep breaths. It takes a few minutes for them to even out, steady and slow.

“Good,” Seokmin soothes. “I’m going to ask you for your consent now, and then I’ll be able to begin. All you need to do is agree.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“Kwon Soonyoung,” he says, low and soothing. “Do you consent to the use of healer magic on your body and mind, with the intention of unbinding your magic from you completely?”

He shakes. Breathes in. “I do.” Breathes out.

Instantly, he can feel Seokmin’s magic flooding through him, reaching every crevice of his body. His magic is some of the purest he’s ever encountered—it makes him an amazing healer, and the feeling of it in his system is comforting. For the first time in days, he feels relaxed, a real sense of relief.

“You’re doing well,” Seokmin murmurs. “Good job.”

Everything surges, and he feels blissed out, and he wonders if Seokmin is giving him a boost to help cushion against what’s to come.

“Okay, I think I have it. I need you to remember that I’m here, alright? However much it hurts next, I’m going to help you. You don’t need to be afraid.”

He nods as best as he can. His body feels like putty. He can’t really remember what pain feels like, but he thinks he’s about to be reminded.

“Alright,” Seokmin says. “Here we go.”

Seokmin’s magic clamps down hard, and pulls, and it burns, tears worse than any injury, than any heartbreak, than anything he’s ever felt before. His head hits something, and it’s disorienting, and there’s ground underneath him, and he grasps for something to hold onto. The hurt is all he knows—hurt, the blurred stars way above, and the disconnect. He can’t feel his body. Only the pain.

There’s Seokmin’s face leaning over his, saying something, but he can’t hear it for the way his blood is rushing in his ears, drowning everything out. He said he would help him, so why isn’t he doing anything? He feels like he could die here, and he promised he wouldn’t, he promised Jeonghan he’d see him again, but he’s going to die. It hurts, it hurts, he feels like he’s dead already, it _hurts_.

Seungkwan’s face appears, too, and his mouth is moving but he can’t hear anything coming out. Someone’s screaming and crying and it’s loud in his head and in the grassy clearing and Seokmin’s hands are on his face, but nothing’s happening. It doesn’t help the pain. He feels like he’s being suffocated—why won’t he help?

A third face appears, and he’s able to pull enough coherent thought together to know that Jeonghan is here. He comes to kneel beside him, taking Seungkwan’s place at his side and holding his hand, but he can’t feel his touch.

“Jeonghan,” he tries to say, but he doesn’t think he manages it—it’s hard to connect anything together, hard to make his body do anything but lie there and hurt.

There’s something creeping up his arm, and he squirms away, thinking it might be another wave of pain. But then it reaches his chest, and spreads out, warm. It feels like—calm. It doesn’t make the pain go away, but it stops his heart from beating so fast, quietens the noise of the crying, helps him catch choked breaths. Everywhere hurts, but at least he can feel something other than the pain, too. He looks around, dazed, but it’s hard to see anything with the tears in his vision and the way he can’t focus. He closes his eyes, and the darkness lets him recognise the calming magic for the first time. It’s Jeonghan’s.

Jeonghan. He’s okay. He’s up, and well, and making magic. He’d done it—the spell had worked. Jeonghan’s okay. He’s alive. He’s okay. He’s okay.

Another magic enters his body, finally—the familiarity of Seokmin’s soothing, healing magic, washing over him. It makes him flinch away at first, not wanting a repeat of the feeling that follows, but the process is done. His magic is gone. He can feel it in the way Seokmin’s magic reaches into empty spaces, cold corners left where his own used to be. Now, all he does is help Soonyoung rest, make him feel sleepy and distant from the pain.

He struggles against sleep for a few seconds so that he can crack open his eyes and check Jeonghan is still there. He’s there, tears on his cheeks and mouth forming words that he still can’t hear. But he’s okay. He can feel his magic resting around his heart, helping it beat steadily.

He’s okay. He can sleep.

-

Sound filters through like he’s underwater. Distant voices, the chirp of morning birdsong, the drag of chairs on floorboards. Sounds of home. He should wake up soon. Things are going on around him, and he’s missing out on them. Time passes, maybe. He should wake up soon.

Easier said than done. His whole body feels like lead, and he’s forgotten how to open his eyes. The bed shifts with the pressure of a weight sitting down, and then there’s a hand stroking his cheek, so gently.

“Are you going to wake up soon?” Jeonghan’s voice says, gradually becoming clearer as he speaks. “I miss you.”

He tries to move a finger. He’s not sure where it is. How does he do that again?

“They told me that this is what I was like, by the last day,” he says, and he feels the hand moving away. “Unresponsive. Don’t you think you’ve made me pay for it for long enough? Don’t you think it’s time to wake up?”

His hand gets picked up and squeezed by Jeonghan’s, and, oh, that’s where his hand is. Helpful.

“I’m here. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you went through with that spell. But I’m here now. So you have to wake up for me.”

He tries to twitch his finger again. He must succeed because Jeonghan’s hand startles in his, and then squeezes again, quickly. “Soonyoung? Can you hear me? Can you do that again?”

He tries again, and this time he manages to squeeze back properly, just a twitch of muscle, but it’s enough. Feeling is starting to spread, mapping his body, waking him up from a long sleep.

“Oh, Gods,” Jeonghan says, almost crushing his hand with the way he’s holding so tight. “You’re so close, baby, come on—open your eyes for me.”

He tries, eyelids fluttering, working against the push of sleep. It’s hard. He purses his lips in annoyance, and tries to swallow, but it’s dry and he chokes on it, throat sore.

“Okay, take it easy—you’re awake, that’s good enough. I’ll be right back, I promise—I’m going to get you some water.”

“Don’t leave!” he wants to say, but it just comes out as a thin whine in the back of his throat, and he screws his eyes shut with the way it aches. His whole body aches, like he ran all the way to the highlands and back without stopping.

“One second, I promise!” Jeonghan’s voice says from a little further away. Then the sound of footsteps. He tries to open his eyes again—can see a sliver of something in front of him. It’s all blurred and formless, but he thinks it might be real, at least.

“Okay, there you go,” Jeonghan’s voice says, back already. “Shut your eyes for a second.”

He huffs a breath through his nose in annoyance. Can he make his mind up?

“Yeah, I know, but this will help you open them properly.”

He shuts his eyes, and then the feeling of a warm wet cloth running over them soothes him. It’s nice. He tries again, and his eyes ease open easily this time, his vision clear, and there’s Jeonghan, standing over him and watching him closely. Soonyoung opening his eyes and focusing up on his face makes him break out into a relieved smile, and he can feel his dry lips stretch into his own smile in response. Jeonghan is happy, and alive, and okay. They’re going to be okay.

Jeonghan punches his arm. “Don’t smile at me, you idiot. I’m angry at you.” He leans down to wrap his arms around Soonyoung’s waist, helping him sit up against the headboard. It feels strangely reminiscent. It also pulls at his aching muscles, and he yelps out in pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sorry. What hurts? Do you want me to get Seokmin?”

He breathes steadily, tries to work some saliva into his mouth. He looks over at the drink on the side table.

“Okay. Here.” Jeonghan picks it up and holds it to his lips, helping him take a sip, only he’s too enthusiastic, takes too much and nearly chokes on it, throat working to get it down.

“Hey, take it slow.” He repositions the glass so he can take smaller gulps. “You’ve been out of it for four days. Your body isn’t going to thank you for rushing now.”

He chokes on the water again. “Four days?” he rasps out, coughing a little to clear his throat.

The look on Jeonghan’s face is confirmation enough. He places the glass down and wraps his arms around Soonyoung’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “Four days unconscious because you tore your magic from your own body. I hope you know I’m furious.”

“Yeah,” he says, hoarse, resting his chin on Jeonghan’s shoulder. He can’t quite muster the energy to lift his arms and return the hug, but it feels nice anyway. “I figured.”

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” he says, muffled into his shirt. “I was worried you wouldn’t wake up.”

He shakes his head. “Will always come back to you.”

Jeonghan cups the back of his head with one hand. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

“Anytime.”

-

His body makes a speedy recovery, Seokmin says, and he’s back on his feet within a few days. Only he kind of wishes his body had taken a little while longer to heal, because being active again means he has to face the facts.

It takes him a long time to adjust to the loss. The urge to brew something new has to repressed every time his fingers twitch, because he wouldn’t be able to finish anything properly. It’s the little things, too, that are almost worse—everyday magic, like lighting a candle, warding the front door, summoning something from the other side of the table. He’ll hold his hand out for the salt, but it doesn’t move, and he has to stand and reach for it, with Jeonghan watching without comment. It reminds him that something inside him is wrong and missing, now, and that there’s no fix. Having to adapt to the emptiness makes him low and irritable, and it takes a few days for him to recognise the feeling as grief.

“What are you going to do now?” Seungkwan asks, because no one else will dare. They just watch him go through his stock of ingredients miserably. “You know, with your life?”

“I’m not doing this to torture myself, you know,” he grumbles, writing down _half a pot of chamomile_ on his list and picking up the next jar. “I’m taking stock.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to ask Chan if he wants to take up an apprenticeship.”

“With you?”

“Yeah. He’s been interested in my brewing for a while now, and he’s got a magic that fits the craft. I think he could be good, if given a bit of guidance. He can take over what I was doing.”

And he’s right. Chan gives him an enthusiastic yes, and Soonyoung starts to teach him all he knows, passing on the mantle of town brewer. It helps, he thinks—he can’t use magic anymore, but he can watch Chan do it with the same steady hand he was known for, and it’s comforting. His work will continue on, even without him. It’s good. It means not all has been lost with his magic.

He starts having nightmares, and Jeonghan starts putting wards over their bed, but they don’t help much, because they’re not the type sent by the faeries. It’s all the stuff in his head, coming back to bite. At least when he wakes up, Jeonghan is always there, pressing kisses into his skin, and he knows he’s safe.

They lay together, and Jeonghan rubs soothing circles into his stomach as they cuddle, held close together. One time, he asks him the question.

“Do you regret it?”

He knows what he’s talking about, of course. Knows Jeonghan has probably been thinking about it since the day he woke up. “No.”

“Not even a little bit?”

He rolls over to face him, touches his cheeks lightly with the tips of his fingers. “No. And I won’t ever regret it. It’s hard, but it’s not the end of me. I have my reason for it right here.”

Jeonghan pushes forwards to give him a kiss on the lips. He accepts it readily, curling his arms around his back.

When he speaks, he’s so close that Soonyoung can feel his breath on his skin. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need magic when you have me.”

He smiles a little, and pushes his face into his neck. “Yeah. You’re all I want.”

“As long as you promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Jeonghan hums into his hair. “Never buy me flowers again.”

He snorts, and he can feel Jeonghan’s mouth pull into a smile. “I’ll never touch the things again. Just you and me for life, I promise.”

“Good. Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Author's Note:**

> i've been sitting on this idea since the [seoulbeats](https://seoulbeats.com/2019/09/poison-fear-paints-seventeens-darkest-artistic-fears/) article talked about the flower petals imagery around soonhan in the fear mv and my mind ran wild, as encouraged by lianne, who also sent me [this](https://twitter.com/kobrakidz/status/1051113503346630656?s=20) accompanying poem for the au!  
> so it's not directly influenced by jeonghan's recent sickness, and i hope he recovers well from it. this is purely a work of fiction :)
> 
> -hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hope_boos) if you like!  
> -my cc is [here](https://curiouscat.me/hobiyaah)  
> -you can retweet this fic [here](https://twitter.com/hope_boos/status/1198732698812080128?s=20)  
> -as always, thanks to my beta [rachel!](https://twitter.com/koyahyah)  
> -if you enjoyed, leave me a kudos/comment so i know!
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


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